


Addicted to you

by CrazyM



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst and Feels, Bars and Pubs, Cyberpunk AU, Extreme PharMercy, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hanzo is sympathetic, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I had to do it, I'm so good wid dem AU's, Loss, POV Hanzo Shimada, Pharmercy, Please Don't Kill Me, RIP Avicii, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Song Lyrics, Songfic, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tributes, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, background McHanzo, fareeha is a singer, noir narrtive style, this is a tribute fic now, too much craving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyM/pseuds/CrazyM
Summary: Not now.Not like this.Had to re-post this, with Avicii gone so soon, and after dominating my playlist like that, this fic is relatable on a much deeper level to me now.Bye, Avicii.





	Addicted to you

"You have to listen to her, Darlin'." Jesse rasped, his voice cracked from the cigars he always has pressed between his lips. I have tried to stop him more than once, but he seems to have an endless supply of these wretched cigars. 

If its his wish to be suicidal, then so be it.

I look around, swiping the droplets of rain off the sleeve of my linen shirt. Like all bars, this place is swimming in neon- the ever present shades of purple, pink, red, green making an eye aching cocktail of light. Jesse motions towards an empty booth close to what looks like a stage. We don't have anywhere to be right now, so I follow him and place myself on the smooth, worn wood. Its cold through the fabric of my trousers.

The rain assaults the glass pane powerlessly, like a feather trying to drive a nail into a wall.

The stage near us is furnished with band instruments and people making themselves ready for a show, or maybe recovering from one. Bands are an abstract concept. A concept man can do without. But they keep spawning like mushrooms.

A maid saunters towards us. She has short brown hair and big brown eyes. She looks frail, but there strength in the way she walks.

"Get us both a beer, sweetie." Jesse says lazily.

The maid saunters away, nodding, and disappears in the sea of people. I turn to Jesse.

"Looks like you visit often." I say. 

"Yeah, I know the guys." He replies, with the same drawl, too lazy to even form proper words. "But what you gotta listen to is the singer, Fareeha Amari."

I look around fruitlessly, so I assume she is in the green room, preening herself for gaping eyes, maybe slipping on a sultry dress so that people would atleast come to just watch. I feel sorry for her.

"Why? There are tons of bars." I say. I love hearing his drawl as much as I hate it.

"She is said to be one of the most depressed people to be hangin' out with. But only once she comes alive." Jesse holds out his index finger. "Just once. In a day."

"When?"

"When she mourns her lover. Her name was Angela. She died in a car crash a year ago." Jesse says, and points to a picture behind the bar. Big enough to be seen clearly from every corner.

Angela is beautiful. Striking blue eyes, alluring white skin, golden hair tied messily. A smile on her face. I find myself smiling back.

"Yeah." Jesse says. "She was a real ray of sunshine. People loved her."

"I can see." I reply. The world takes the best first.

The crowd parts and a woman walks in, wearing a black pantsuit over a white blouse. She is trim, her frame aesthetic, each step graceful, deliberate. Her skin is caramel, eyes a beautiful shade of hazel. Her hair was short, straight down to her chin, the ones up front tied into golden ornaments. She has a tattoo under her right eye.

The poise of a performer, truly. But she isn't wearing anything remotely sultry so it must be her voice pulling all these people. She positions herself behind the mike. I notice the out of place scarf around her collar.

Jesse watches me. "That is Angela's scarf. She would wear it around her neck every single day." he says, answering my question before I have time to form it.

Its unnerving how he can read me. It almost feels like a violation.

"Lets begin, shall we?" Fareeha's voice blares through the speakers at the corners. I look up at her. The crowd makes an approving noise, a smatter of yeses, like a million bees.

The guitar guy begins plucking the notes. Its a profound, but weak riff.

 _I don't know just how it happened,_  
_I let down my guard..._  
_Swore I'd never fall in love again but I fell hard._  
_Guess I should have seen it coming,_  
_Caught me by suprise..._  
_I wasnt looking where I was going,_  
_I fell into your eyes._

Her voice is intoxicating, bassy. Hinting at hidden sass. Her beautiful eyes light up, flashing momentarily before she hides them by looking down. She shakes her head at her supposed vulnerability. There is an undertone of worship in the voice, the crack of mourning.

 _You came into my crazy world like a cool and cleansing wave._  
_Before I knew what hit me baby you were flowing though my veins..._

She raises her head, her face wearing a bittersweet smile. The crowd smiles back sympathetically. Their silence urges her on. The drummer and the pianist ready themselves, hitting the notes right on time, as she starts singing the next verse.

 _I'm addicted to you,_  
_Hooked on your love,_  
_Like a powerful drug_  
_I can't get enough of,_  
_Lost in your eyes,_  
_Drowning in blue_  
_Outta control,_  
_What can I do?_  
_I'm addicted to you!_

I catch everything- every subtle movement. Her leaning on one of her knees, framing the mike with her arms, mimicking the way she would have embraced Angela if she was still here.

That is the thing. Angela no longer is. I feel the crescendo of the chorus giving me a chill. The music dies down and she goes back to her somber self.  
  
_When night blows in through the window,_  
_Dances round the room..._  
_Got me hypnotized,_  
_I'm getting high on the perfume._  
_I couldn't live without you now,_  
_Oh, I know I'd go insane,_  
_I wouldn't last one night alone baby,_  
_I couldn't stand the pain!_

I feel her pain in each of the words. I see the inhale, deeper than usual, no doubt drinking in her lover's musk that no longer inhabits the air. She sings on, and I can see the strain on her. How it is sapping her of her energy. How she is giving this one song everything she has. She isn't singing for the patrons, who are drunk with the heady mixture of alcohol and ego.

She is singing for Angela. Her eyes are fixed on a place I cannot see and I know Angela is sitting there, and their eyes are locked, burning with a passion I can only imagine. Fareeha has eyes only for her lover, the focus, the intensity of it all leaving me breathless. Then I notice her clutching at the mike.

She isn't holding on to it for show. She is holding on to it to remain standing. She draws a sharp breath and tenses her body to give the chorus all she has.

Till now, I was sympathizing, now I'm worried.  
  
_I'm addicted to you!_  
_Hooked on your love,_  
_Like a powerful drug_  
_I can't get enough of,_  
_Lost in your eyes,_  
_Drowning in blue_  
_Outta control,_  
_What can I do?_  
_I'm addicted to you!_

I sense her knees trembling underneath the suit, the crack of the voice when she sings at the top of her lungs, throwing her head back, hugging herself, no doubt leaning into Angela's touch, touching her lover's arm. Even I can see Angela embracing her from behind, eyes closed, lips in between her chin and neck, creamy white skin on caramel, yang to her yin, arms wrapped around her torso. Fareeha sways side to side, and Angela follows suit, both of them in a dance so private an intimate in a way that can only be theirs.

The drums and piano continue, as if the band cannot bear to see them apart, and play just so that she and Angela can dance a little longer. They are swaying their heads with her, Fareeha singing, the power of her voice keeping her and Angela together, swaying to the rhythm.

I don't want the music to end.

I don't want to see her getting seperated from her lover. Its a phantasm, but its the only thing keeping the singer anchored to reality. Only thing keeping her singing.

Please Fareeha, keep singing.

Please. I cannot bear you getting seperated from her.

Not now.

Not like this.

_I'm addicted to you!_

She gave the line the last vestiges of her will and the music ended. Angela dissolved in air and Fareeha leaned forward as the phantasm dissolved away from her, to hold on just a little longer. I sense her knees give. Her hands on the mike steady her. Her eyes are hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

The bar explodes in applause. They applaud her singing, her voice, the music. But can't they see her pain? Can't they see her weakness? Can't they see what she has become?

I'm mourning with her.

The untimely death of Angela.

The cruelty of fate.

Killing her yet keeping her alive.

"Thank you." She chokes out, and walks away amidst fervent applause, disappearing behind the curtains. The people keep applauding.

I can't take this. I get off the booth and I am behind the curtain before anyone can stop me.

Fareeha Amari stops in the hallway when she hears me stumbling through the satin curtains.

"I'm so sorry." I say, because that is all I can say. "I saw her. With you. During the last chorus." I blurt out before I can stop myself.

I can only see her back, but I know the tension in her shoulders earlier is gone. I hear the sigh.

"Did you?" she says. Her voice is hoarse. Behind me I can hear Jesse smoothing the matter out.

"Yes." I say. "It was beautiful. I'm so sorry."

She looks over her shoulder to look at me. Her eyes are a shadow of what they were. Lifeless. Something that has lost its purpose. A desert with no oasis. She smiles weakly.

"You know, I had a fight with her right before she died. It was worse than any fight we had. I had told her in my anger that I wish I never saw her again." She says. Its an acquiescence. She has accepted it. I want to let her know that it wasn't her fault, but something stops me. Who am I to take away her right to blame herself?

My heart breaks. Millions of tiny shards. I cannot feel anything.

"She took me too seriously." Fareeha feigns humor and gives out a dry laugh that hurts as much to hear as it does to hack out. She presses the scarf to her nose and inhales. "She smelled like the sea." she says absentmindedly.

I have to ask. "If you had one more chance to make things right, would you have taken it?"

"No." She replies.

"Why?" I ask. It sounds more like a protest.

"I never would have realized how much I love her." She says. "I love her far more now."

She does not wait for my answer and walks away. I cannot move, my body is suddenly a shell filled with millions of years of rot.

I have fossilized.

**Author's Note:**

> Still listening to his songs on repeat.
> 
> So this is what this statement means- "It is fear like if someone lost his glasses and went to the glasses store and they told him that the world had run out of glasses and he would just have to do without.”


End file.
